


Dead Men and Sinners

by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Anal, Bloody Sex, Bottom!Hannibal, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Hannibal is a horn dog whenever Will gets murdery, M/M, Murder Husbands on the Run, Murder Sex, Oral, Post TWOTL, Rimming, TW: Blood, TW: Knives, Top!Will, blood in places it shouldn't be (but not as lube), bottom hannibal day, dark!Will, dirty nasty, slight s/d themes, they're on a boat?., tw: murder, tw: rough sex, tw: throat cutting, undisclosed time and location, unsanitary sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 21:38:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15671790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_safe/pseuds/gleamingandwholeanddeadly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/printersdevils
Summary: He looks at Hannibal and sees what he sees: himself glowing where he stands, blood-red and divine- a vengeful god of death. Protecting what's his.Hannibal steps toward him, and Will sees what's coming next, too. He drops the knife and catches Hannibal's face in his bloodied hands as he presses in to kiss him. The touch of his lips is searing hot against the blood cooling on Will’s skin, and so are his hands grasping at Will's waist."Nothing," he whispers, kissing Will again intently before he continues, smearing blood between their mouths, "nothing is so moving as watching you act on your glorious wrath."A trespasser makes the mistake of attempting to blackmail Will and Hannibal, which is the last decision he makes. Hannibal shows Will just how pleased he is by his savage protectiveness. Pure filth written for Bottom Hannibal Day!





	Dead Men and Sinners

It hadn't been premeditated. Will isn't sure if that's good or bad at this stage- all he knows is that there's a man tied up on the deck of the boat and that he's getting them away from the marina as fast as he can. And as casually as he can, because Hannibal has told him exactly nothing about what he walked in on. He hasn't even picked up the spilled groceries. That's what concerns Will the most.

He waits until they're well out in open water to cut the engine and drop anchor, and when he goes down into the cabin Hannibal is sitting at the table, calmly sharpening a kitchen knife, his expression sharp as the shimmering blade.

"I thought we already had dinner," Will drawls, leaning against the bulkhead.

"If we're moving on, we need provisions anyway," Hannibal replies evenly.

"I wasn't aware we were moving on."

"Our guest up there seemed to think it would be a good idea, when he invited himself on board earlier," Hannibal says. He stands up and strolls over to Will, offering him the hilt of the knife. Because his instincts are always to disarm Hannibal, Will takes it. It feels light and easy in his hand; cool under his fingers. He looks down at it as Hannibal continues, very close now. "He seemed to think we weren't the legal owners of this boat. And he seemed to think that a rather large sum of money would make him forget that."

Will’s eyes lift, taking on a note of cool vindication. "Well that's just plain... rude."

"I knew you’d see it my way."

The knife flashes brightness up onto the ceiling like a band of Northern Lights. Will watches the glint pass over the surface, and then nods.

"Okay. What cuts do you want?"

"Loin and backstrap at least," Hannibal says. "I'll have to assess the health of the organs."

Gaze flicking from Hannibal to the knife, Will presses his lips into a thin line of consideration. When he speaks, his voice is much calmer than he is.

"There's only so much space for butchering up there."

"Then call me when you're ready for me," Hannibal replies.

Will isn't sure why, but the thought of Hannibal- well, _missing it_ \- seems wrong. "That's not… I meant in terms of making a mess."

"Messes clean up," Hannibal shrugs. "Especially on a boat."

"Okay. So come and tell me what you want."

"As you wish."

They proceed back up the steps to the deck. The man Hannibal kidnapped is curled on his side, drooling around the makeshift gag in his mouth. A familiar flash of disdain sears Will as he uses the toe of his boot to turn the man onto his back before he looks back at Hannibal. He thinks for a single  horrifying instant that perhaps this would be more fun if he cut him loose. His eyes lock briefly with Hannibal’s, and he wonders if he’s thinking the same thing.

"He doesn't deserve to fight back," he decides when Hannibal remains still and quiet. He can see the scene clearly; Hannibal, stepping onto the boat with his groceries. The intruder, attempting to surprise him from behind, and making the fatal mistake of not knowing it was Hannibal Lecter he was stalking.

Frantic, muffled braying at his words from the man on the floor. Will grabs the front of his jacket and wrenches him up against the rails; flicks the knife around in his hand so the blunt of it is against his wrist when he slashes his throat. He feels the hot blood spatter across his face and chest. More than he expected. A searing, awful thrill goes through him as he feels it dribble warm down his throat. The man's coughing last breaths as he drowns in it are terrible and right.

Will doesn't watch him. He looks at Hannibal and sees what he sees: sees himself glow where he stands, blood-red and darkly powerful, a higher power- a vengeful god of death. Protecting what's his.

Hannibal steps toward him, and Will sees what's coming next, too. He drops the knife and catches Hannibal's face in his bloodied hands as he presses in to kiss him. The touch of his lips is brand-hot, and so are his hands grasping at Will's waist.

"Nothing," he whispers, kissing Will again intently before he continues, "nothing is so moving as watching you act on your glorious wrath."

The shiver travels from Will's limbs up to his throat, lodging there as a moan. Hannibal licks at the corner of his mouth, and Will wants to protest about unsafe blood, but he knows Hannibal would _smell it_ , like he turns his head and flares his nostrils whenever Will has so much as a semi in the vicinity of the cabin. Instead, he groans and pulls him back into another kiss. He catches sight of his hands, the way they're smearing blood all over Hannibal's skin, and grins a savage grin.

"Will," Hannibal’s voice is rich, the way it shapes his name so raw with velvety want. Will closes his eyes and nods. "I want you."

"How much?"

"More than I can bear. I need to possess you. I need you to have me, in turn."

He feels the way Hannibal's hands clench in his shirt and dips his mouth to his ear.

"I can do better than that. I'll take you, and you'll love it.” His answering tremble is almost as appetising as his plush pink mouth. Will leans in and bites his lower lip. "Is that what you want?"

"Will... It's _all_ I want." His voice is still too steady, so Will spins him around with rough hands and pushes him against the side of the cockpit. He sees Hannibal's hands slide against the smooth surface; feels the shaking impact of his chest as he breathes hard. "Will-"

Will stares at the streaks of blood on the white. "Take your pants down and wait."

With the same self-assured ease he always seems to have, Hannibal does, unbuckling his belt and dropping it on the floor with a thud before he moves onto his zipper while Will ducks into the cockpit for the bottle of lube he knows is there- not like it's the first time they've fucked up here. When he’s retrieved it, Hannibal has shed his shirt and jumper too, standing bare and pristine but for the blood Will smeared on his face.

"Aren't you good," Will croons. He puts his hand on his hip and Hannibal leans back down for him, exposed and spread legged, entirely too much of an indulgence. More graceful than he has any right to be. Will bites his lip against the flood of heat that trickles down his belly to his groin, fattening his cock. He opens the lube and smears some onto his fingers and between Hannibal's thighs.

“Will. Don’t hold back.”

“Not on your life.” He sinks two of them into Hannibal immediately, thumb pressing on the tender pink rim of his hole. Hannibal hisses his name and it feels so good to shuck all the calm off him like mud.

"I know that's what you want," Will murmurs, leaning close again, the motions of his fingers immediately quickening. Hannibal looks at him over his shoulder, eyes deep crescents of satisfaction already.

"Do you." He purrs it, clearly delighted.

"I do." Will gives his fingers a twist, nearly vicious, and thrusts deep. A visible shudder runs up Hannibal's spine, almost delicate.

"But what do you want, Will?"

"Why wouldn't I want this too?"

"I just want to hear it."

"I want you, Hannibal," Will hisses in his ear.

"How do you want me?"

Will breathes in, twisting his fingers again.

"I want you riding my cock, losing your mind. I love that, you know." At the words, Hannibal arches back. Will looks down, watching him move onto his fingers, stalling both their breath. "Just like that.”

"Just like that," Hannibal agrees, accent thick.

Will kisses the back of his shoulder. "I'm going to fuck you now."

"Please do."

Will's hands tremor a bit with barely suppressed frustration when he pulls out and coats his cock with lube: he hates how still Hannibal is despite his professions of need. Will wants to fuck the stillness right out of him. That cruel need burning in him like a flame, he takes hold of his cock and circles the head around Hannibal's hole. That at least gets a little noise.

"Was that impatience?" Will hopes so.

"If you like."

Will grabs the silky hair on the back of his head, lifts it to hiss in his ear. "The truth, Hannibal. No fancy words."

"Every second you're not inside me is torture." He only sounds slightly catty when he says it. Will thrusts inside him anyway, and his broken little moan sounds real, back arching immediately. Will pushes relentlessly until he bottoms out, taking great satisfaction in the way Hannibal goes up on his toes as his hands squeak over the bulkhead.

"That's it," Will grits, letting his hips shoot forward at the pace they want. "You're so easy for me."

He hears another squeak of skin on paint as he spreads Hannibal's cheeks with his hands, lip curling with exertion. Hannibal makes a ragged noise, spine cupping, the tight passage of his hole clenching around Will when he shoves deep.

"Say it," Will tells him.

"It's true, Will." Hannibal stops trying to support himself, body and face pressing against the bulkhead. Will can hear his breaths, sharp and hurried now.

"That's not what I said. I want to hear the words." He slips his hand up his side to dig his nails into his flank, feeling the rise of Hannibal's rib cage with his panting.

"I'm easy for you," he says, the edges of the words all frayed.

Will wonders if he feels the pulse of his cock at the words. "Yeah, you are aren't you?"

He tugs him up gently, spine sloped like a Big Dipper so that Will can kiss him slow. Their faces are both still stained red, the smell of blood like copper ore in their red clay, a lingering note in the mixed fog of their fucking.

"Keep going," Hannibal whispers, and Will does, forehead to Hannibal's temple as he lets his hips go in long, liquid thrusts now, hard and relentless, every movement jolting Hannibal against the bulkhead. Will feels dizzy with it; the way Hannibal opens limply up to the press of his cock, his lips swollen from kisses and nips, mouth hanging open, has him aching with need.

He clutches handfuls of flesh; his ass, his soft hips, thighs. He's mad for the feeling of him swallowing Will into his body. For the quiet noises he's undoubtedly trying not to make.

Though, that is a bit of a trial. Well reaches to cup the aching, hot wet firmness of his cock and squeezes as he thrusts. Hannibal's hips jerk back harder and he keens louder, and God, the way he wants Will’s cock is intoxicating.

Just to see, Will stalls his movements, standing still. There’s a moment of uncertain silence, lingering need hinged on their wet breaths. Hannibal makes a soft noise of realization.

"Go on."

"Will," Hannibal groans. "Keep fucking me-"

"I told you, I wanted to see you fuck yourself."

More soft breaths, and then muscles clench in Hannibal's bare forearms as he braces himself to push back. His hole swallows the flush length of Will’s cock as he eases back, and then reveals it again with his receding sway. They’re both shiny with lube, Hannibal’s back and thigh muscles glossed with sweat. Desire seizes Will between the cradle of his hips and yanks.

"That's it," he groans softly, "show me how bad you want it."

Hannibal flattens his palms and pushes back, hips undulating smoothly as he rolls himself back on Will's cock faster still, the wet, sharp slaps of their skin indecent in the still ocean night. "That’s so good," Will soothes. Watching for a few moments, he frames his hips with his hands to signify he can stop, then tightens his grip and snaps in deep again.

“ _Will-_ yes-” Hannibal's lack of resistance is intoxicating. He's finally making noise, groaning rough and low against the metal, ass pressing up for more.

Will reaches for his cock again finally, stroking the dripping head, smoothing slick down the shaft and delivering long, squeezing strokes. Hannibal pushes into it with more urgency, turning his face into the protective brace of his arms and smothering a low cry.

"Will- please."

“Yeah, baby,” Will closes his eyes, “tell me what to do."

"Harder," Hannibal grits, and Will gives it to him, sharp and quick thrusts that render them both breathless; speechless; weak in the knees.

Seeing the smear of Hannibal's breath on the bulkhead, Will concentrates his attention on his cock, voice catching in his throat at corresponding squeezes around him. Everything else that isn't Hannibal is vertigo and flashing lights behind his eyes. He _feels_ the moment Hannibal’s orgasm starts, and he can only growl wordlessly and stroke him faster, nails biting into Hannibal's side. The hot trickle of his come coats Will’s fingers around his cock.

At another trembling squeeze of Hannibal’s soft insides, Will’s own hips jolt forward hard- hard enough he almost stutters an apology with it before Hannibal grabs at him over his shoulder.

"Haa- yes, Will, please- don’t stop.”

"I won’t stop.”

With Hannibal still shivering beneath him it's so easy to focus on his own pleasure; to buck in fast as his belly clenches. He makes noises he's not sure are words, and where his hand has come to rest on the bulkhead, Hannibal’s slips beneath and clutches. It's coming, swelling inside him like liquid fire. He comes inside Hannibal with three long thrusts, the path of his cock growing audibly slippery with his release, spilling down Hannibal's perineum.

"Oh, _fuck_..." Hips jerking one last time, he slips out, folding down against his back. His cock slips into the pocket of space behind Hannibal’s sack, smearing come between his thighs. The little, wrecked _aah_! Hannibal gives makes him twitch with another nasty little flood of want.

Muscles jumping, breaths wrecked, he clutches at Hannibal's ribs. "Jesus..."

“Mm,” Hannibal agrees blurrily. Despite his dishevelment, he still looks entirely pleased with himself, stroking over Will’s hand on his hip. All the frantic movements bleed away, and they're just still, stained with blood and semen under the stars. Will looks over his shoulder, and sighs when the dead man stares back from the deck.

"Well, that was a new one."

Visibly amused, Hannibal looks over his shoulder at him.  "Yes, quite revealing."

"Psychoanalyzing me, Doctor?"

"Just revelling in the nuances of your ever-developing hungers, Will. You bear the blade like a dancer and move with all the savage delicacy of a wolf."

"Yeah, you know how I love to be compared to animals when we fuck," Will says, straightening and pulling his pants back up: the corpse is distracting now. "Just for that, you're in charge of all the messy stuff."

"Tonight's theme, apparently," Hannibal says under his breath as he rises with a faint wince. Stalling, Will turns back to him, suddenly awash with tenderness. He picks Hannibal's shirt up for him and kisses him gently.

"If he'd have hurt you, it wouldn't have ended nearly that quickly."

"I know that," Hannibal says. He strokes absently down Will's chest. "You're beautiful when you're wrathful."

"You're beautiful when you're monstrous. And when you let me dirty you up."

Hannibal takes his face in his hands again, so intensely prideful that Will wonders if it's another one of his ploys. Did the man even attack him? It doesn't matter: Hannibal wanted it. More often than he cares to admit, that’s enough.

He lets Hannibal kiss him again slow, then tells him, "We have work to do."

"And then a shower, and bed perhaps."

Will snorts. "Yes, Hannibal. Those things after."

They dismantle the body between them, practiced and precise. They keep the loins and the backstraps, some of the organs. Will just cuts where Hannibal tells him to cut. Afterward, they hurl the remains in the ocean. Will smashes the teeth out of the skull with a hammer and sprinkles them in their wake like gory breadcrumbs.

"A nice touch," Hannibal praises.

Will gives him a look. "FBI."

"Of course.” He still looks smug. He doesn't lose the expression even as they wash down the deck.

They go down to the cabin after, to squeeze in the tiny shower. Watching the water run rust coloured, Will's fixation drifts for a few moments, and then his eyes find Hannibal again and it's back where it belongs.

Hannibal leans in to kiss him slowly and thoroughly.

"Hi," Will murmurs, touching through his hair.

"My Will," he murmurs back, adoring. Passionately. Will can't fathom on the depths of his love, but if they're anything like his own, there's a lot to explore. The monsters don't even lurk in those deeps, they've come to the surface to play.

Hannibal mouths at the spot of Will’s neck that makes him twitch, and he groans softly. God, can they muster the energy to fuck again? He hasn't felt like this since he was young.

They can’t in here, in any case- not enough room. They've tried. More than once.

"What are you thinking?" Hannibal says quietly.

"I want you again," Will admits, eyes going back to the swirling water. He’s answered with a simple, appraising once over; Hannibal's cocked head.

"You can have me," he says, simple as that.

Will lets the water rinse the last of the soap from his hair before he nods. He presses a kiss to Hannibal's shoulder before squeezing out of the cubicle to let him finish up, taking himself off to dry up. He walks naked up to the cockpit to check the systems and radar, then goes back to their cabin; straightens the bedclothes; puts their clothes in the laundry. He’s waiting.

Hannibal is predictably silent as he approaches; just his breath gives him away before Will feels his warm hands come to his waist. He closes his eyes and gives a soft moan at the scrape of teeth against his earlobe; down his neck. The slow line of kisses Hannibal plants down his spine leave electric trails in their wake, muscles quivering with their passage.

"Hannibal," he breathes, when he hears him drop to his knees behind him.

"Hands on the bed, Will."

"Oh, god." He groans. He does as he's told.

It's an awkward position, even more so when he feels breath on his thighs and they tremble.

No more awkward than spreading Hannibal over the bulkhead, he realizes. Is this some small form of revenge? Does he care, when Hannibal's tongue is circling and pressing against his hole, thumbs spreading him open?

He really doesn't.

"I want you hard again," Hannibal murmurs, "can you do that?"

"I -" Probably, he thinks. Christ.

Obviously pleased, Hannibal returns  to his ministrations, tongue passing wetly over sensitive skin, pressing with the tip of his tongue before he sucks. Will hangs his head between his arms; breathes and thinks of Hannibal with come dripping down his thighs and yes, there he is plumping right up.

“Oh, Jesus.”

Hannibal curls a hand around him and murmurs, "Oh, very good Will," before he goes back to licking him slow and wet. There's no stopping him now. He's squeezing gently around the base of Will's cock, making him as hard as he can. Will endures it with a roll of his eyes as he pants: Hannibal has certainly done less flattering things to him in the name of stamina, and Will can stand just about anything for the soft noises of pleasure he makes as he starts to fuck Will with his tongue in slow, slick pushes.

"Jesus, Hannibal," Will's eloquence has abandoned him, his mouth hanging open and thighs trembling for a few long moments. "Oh, fuck, fuck- just - tell me what you want."

Hannibal answers by sucking softly over his hole before he stands, turning Will around and pushing him down onto the bed, every move precise and decided. He retrieves lube from by the bed and climbs over Will's thighs.

"Again?" Will says softly.

"Again. Humour me." He slicks Will’s aching cock up with long, thorough strokes, and Will watches the pass of hands, long fingered and strong, with rapt enjoyment.

"Fuck," he mutters.

Hannibal doesn't bother touching himself, just positions himself over Will's cock and eases himself down like it's no big deal. There’s little give, but he’s still tight and molten hot, sudden and encompassing. Will makes to take his hips, but Hannibal catches his hands and holds them to his stomach as he starts to ride Will's cock in slick, smooth movements, knees braced on the sheets and his soft cock swaying just slightly. Rapt, Will stares up at him as he fucks himself. He’s stunning, lean and long-bodied, face chiselled from marble - except for his eyes, watching Will like he's the only thing in the world.

Wriggling a hand free from his grasp, Will tunnels his fingers around him and starts to knead gently, groaning when he starts to swell at the stimulation.

“That’s perfect, Will.” He tips his chin up when Will thumbs at the soft, sensitive slit of his cock, keening softly in his throat at the touch.

Will can't get enough of watching the way he works himself on his cock in hard, needy rocks, breaths vocal over the wet press of skin. He's doing all the work, pleasuring them both with his eyes serenely closed and his gorgeous, plush lips parted, and Will is hit with an overwhelming affection for him, making him turn his face into Hannibal's chest and sigh.

At the feeling of his breath, Hannibal sinks a hand into the back of his hair and tilts his head to kiss him.

“I love feeling you inside me,” he purrs, “so hard from watching me use you for pleasure- and using me too.”

“Hannibal-”

“It’s alright. Nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re exceptional. You give me exactly what I want, whenever I want it.”

"It always feels like what I want too. God, I get so tangled up in you," Will breathes, "worry sometimes that it's how we'll get caught- ah!” The breath leaves him as Hannibal renews his bucking at a more punishing pace, punctuating his words.

"I won't. Let that. Happen."

His fingers are almost bruisingly tight in Will's hair now. He thinks if he could see Hannibal’s face, it would be chilling. And he believes him.

"But I don't want to give up that feeling," he whispers.

"I don't want you to." His lips trail down Will's throat, movements picking up in urgency as Will's hand tightens. Will craves the bleed of it, from his body into Will's own; a dissolving of their consciousness into one devouring need. He always feels like they're closely intertwined, but when they're physically tangled like this he can hardly think of anything but Hannibal. He doesn't want them to ever separate.

"Hannibal," he breathes- it's always on the tip of his tongue. Teeth prick against his throat and he groans; lets his own hips jerk and gasps when Hannibal clenches and moans. He can't imagine how sensitive he must be, second time around. "Tell me how you want this to go."

"I don't have a plan," Hannibal says, damp hair hanging in his eyes.

"Then make me come again."

"Yes, Will," Hannibal says softly. Obediently even. The way it twists Will's insides is almost painful.

"This a thing?" he asks, giving his hips another little rock to watch his eyelids flutter.

"For you? Or for me?" Hannibal pants.

"It could definitely be a thing for me."

Hannibal smirks faintly. "Then perhaps it's a thing."

“Say it again," Will says quietly.

"Which part, Will?"

"You know which."

Hannibal, the little fuck, smiles at him as he leans down to kiss him. "It arouses me to let you use my body. Starting gentle and then you can’t help but rut- _ah_ -"

Jesus, he sounds like a fucking robot. It shouldn't turn Will's crank half as much as it does. He moves his hips again, grinding up into that tight heat, teeth gritted.

"Yes, Will- fuck me, come inside me…" Hannibal breathes, and Will gasps softly in answer: that's it. Just the sound of it. Hannibal repeats it, soft and quick as their pace picks up. He's finally truly hard, swollen and leaking precome, drops sliding down his thick shaft.

Drunk on the scent of their coupling, sweat and sex, Will can't help making noises deep in his throat.

"Fuck," he closes his eyes, " _fuuuck_...” He strokes Hannibal's cock faster, listening as the soft, rapid repetitions of his name get louder and more desperate. As desperate as Will feels. Hannibal is dragging his orgasm out of him faster than he thought possible.

He should know better by now, though: Hannibal always gets what he wants. Especially from Will.

He comes with a shaking, groaning cry, snapping his hips up hard, feeling more fluid flooding wet and messy down his own cock and balls as he works it out fast in Hannibal’s clenching hole. He holds onto his neck, burying himself to the hilt with his last pulse, incensed by the appetitive little cry Hannibal gives.

When his own thundering pulse has ebbed from his ears, he hears Hannibal say his name one more time, hand joining Will's around his own cock, darkly flushed and shining wet now.

"Wait, wait," Will kisses him hard, still panting, "let me suck you?"

At Hannibal’s soft noise of affirmation he unseats himself, flipping Hannibal gently onto his back on the bed and crawling over him. The sight of Hannibal’s fat cock slapping up against his soft stomach is enough to make his mouth water. And he's not unnerved by the close eye contact anymore, especially not when he looks like this.

Holding his gaze, Will swallows him down and savours the tang of his leaking. The ragged noise Hannibal makes in answer is just as delicious.

"Such a good boy," he praises Will, voice rough with exertion.

The words affect Will more than he thought they might, and he grips the inside of Hannibal's thigh and swallows with his cock in the back of his throat hungrily. Hannibal’s strangled noise of approval makes him do it again, over and over. When he feels the first flood of his hot seed he pulls back to work him with his tongue, gasping when it fills his mouth and, with the bob of his head, inevitably spills down his lips and chin.

When he can breathe again, Will licks the trails of creamy white from his sack and the base of his cock with small laps of his tongue, gasping when Hannibal grasps his hair and drags him up to eye level.

“Don’t swallow. Open for me.”

“ _Fuck_.” It's all Will can do to open his mouth let Hannibal lick the taste of himself out of it like a cat with cream. They’re both out of breath by the time he's done.

"Jesus," Will mutters, too addled to search his vocabulary for anything more creative. Hannibal only says his name, soft and adoring, until their mouths come together in another slow kiss. Will cups his face and absorbs the feeling of loving and being loved in such a dark, dangerous way.

Eventually they slump down into bed, still breathing deep. Will lets himself go boneless for a while, slumped over Hannibal’s chest, cheek against his shoulder. The boat slowly dips and bobs, the action soothing him to sleep. He's exhausted. They both are.

They doze, and when Will stirs it’s with the memory of watches; of murder and carelessness. Levering himself up, he stretches the kinks out of his back. They should put in a few more miles and anchor up closer to the shore, he thinks.

Hannibal murmurs and shifts when he gets up. Will leans down to kiss his cheek.

"I won't be long."

The sky is clear and flecked with stars as he goes up and sets them in motion again, the water cutting like butter beneath the blade of the bow, everything still and glassy, stars reflected as infinity around the boat. Will has forgotten all about the man he killed- the trespasser. All he’s thinking of is Hannibal, and the way he’d looked with two bloody handprints on his cheeks. He’d looked wild; entirely animal. It’s the most beautiful he ever looks, when he’s shed his human skin.

It isn't long before Hannibal appears behind him to interrupt his musing, wrapping a fleece blanket around his shoulders before he pours them both a cup of coffee from a thermos.

Registering some surprise, Will takes the coffee with a hum of thanks. "Staying up with me tonight?"

Elegant as ever, Hannibal sits close by, nudging his bare toes to Will’s ankle. He’s dressed, more or less, and wrapped in a blanket of his own.

"I thought I might."

It's all the company he's ever wanted.


End file.
